Ninja Wizards
by Ninja-Wizard
Summary: The ninjas of Naruto are wizards, and sometimes visa-versa. Who knows? We certainly don't. XD Lots of boys--no girls.
1. Teacher Talk

Iruka wandered through the halls, eyes wide. It was truly an impressive castle, grander than any he had been in. He shrugged his shoulders—he still wasn't used to the heavier robes.  
  
A door was open just down the hall, and peeking in he saw what could only be the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. He stepped inside, gazing in appreciation at the giant skeleton, the tank with a growling grindylow, and the cage of pixies. He must really know his stuff, keeping all these dark creatures.  
  
"Hello? May I help you?"  
  
Jumping in surprise, Iruka whirled around to find himself facing a tall, pale man in the doorway. "Oh, I'm sorry," he stammered, smiling faintly. "I was just admiring the classroom."  
  
The man approached with a faint smile. "No need to apologize. I'm Remus Lupin, Defense professor." He offered a hand as he approached.  
  
Iruka quickly moved to meet him, shaking his hand eagerly. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Iruka."  
  
"The new professor?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes. I'm going to be taking over Transfiguration with the first through third years, give Prof. McGonagall a little break to better concentrate on the older students." Iruka paused, realizing he was rambling.  
  
Lupin didn't seem to notice, only smiling and nodding. "A good idea. Especially with the younger crowd."  
  
Relieved, Iruka relaxed somewhat. "Yes. I really love teaching."  
  
Lupin nodded. "I was about to have some tea. Will you join me?"  
  
Pleased, Iruka easily followed him to his office. "I would love to."  
  
---  
  
As the winter break wore down, Iruka found himself visiting Lupin almost every after noon. It was a one of Lupin's good days, and neither wanted to waste it indoors. They wandered down to the frozen lake, bundled against the cold as they talked about their students.  
  
"So he's really starting to master the Patronus charm?" Iruka asked, impressed.  
  
Lupin nodded. "It's incredible, his rate of progress." He chuckled. "He'll probably surpass most of us by the time he gets out of here."  
  
Iruka shook his head in disbelief. It really is amazing, the things these kids are able to do now. "Good thing I'm only teaching the little ones—they'd probably start learning faster than I could—ah!"  
  
They had gotten close to the lake, though with the snow it was impossible to tell where the land ended and the ice began. Iruka slipped on a hidden patch and was sent reeling. Lupin grabbed at his robes, but the sudden shift of weight caused him to slip as well, and the pair went tumbling down into the snow.  
  
Iruka couldn't help laughing as they tried to untangle themselves, but the heavy robes made it almost impossible. They finally settled for simply flopping side by side in the snow bank, chuckling.  
  
After a few moments they quieted, content to stare at the silver-toned sky. "Iruka," Lupin suddenly said, tone low. "I want to thank you."  
  
"Hmm?" The younger teacher glanced over. "Why?"  
  
Lupin continued to watch the slowly moving clouds. "Not many of the staff have been as...accepting as you."  
  
Iruka smiled faintly, reaching out briefly to pat the elder's shoulder. "It's all right. I've known my share of 'special cases,' believe me. I prefer to believe it is our deeds that determine our merit, not those things that are beyond our control."  
  
Lupin chuckled. "I'm not sure I follow that logic, but I'm still grateful." He relaxed further, glad to have that out in the open. "I did hear you had an interesting student. Someone to rival my own, hmm?"  
  
Nodding, Iruka stretched his arms, finally folding them beneath his head. "Yeah. Great kid, misunderstood. He's got one of those difficult pasts that he's...judged for."  
  
Lupin snorted quietly. "Sounds familiar."  
  
"Yeah. But he's a great kid, really determined. It's really too bad he's too old for me to teach anymore." He sighed heavily. "I wish I could see him more often, though. Just to know he was doing all right."  
  
The elder teacher nodded, understanding just what his companion was saying. "You've taught longer than I have," he admitted. "This is really my first year. I...really can't imagine never seeing some of these kids again. Especially certain ones."  
  
Iruka chucked. "Those ones, you will see them after. They have a way of popping up, or you keep in touch with them." His eyes narrowed as a bit of sunlight crept through the clouds, momentarily brightening the snow around them. He turned towards the other with a knowing smile. "You're thinking about your little prodigy, right?"  
  
Lupin nodded, not bothering to deny it. "Yes. We...have something of a history. I've been glad to know him, now that he's older. I hope that will continue."  
  
Of course it will, Iruka thought. Something tells me...we'll all be looking after him, eventually. "I'm sure you two will remain in touch. We have to stick together these days."  
  
Sighing, Lupin closed his eyes to the piercing sun. "Yes. Yes we do."  
  
--- 


	2. Gaara's Hungry

Ron coughed and sputtered as sand whirled around him, catching in his robes and scratching across his freckled face. There was nothing he could do; the new Slytherin student had him pinned halfway up the castle wall with a form of magic he couldn't understand. He didn't know there were spells to control sand, let alone how to counter them.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Ron cried out, trying to be heard over the fury swirling about him. "I didn't see you there, I bumped into you on accident, I swear," his voice cracked with fear, his lips beginning to bleed as sand particles imbedded themselves in his skin.  
  
Gaara said nothing, did nothing, but stare at Ron as he squirmed, pinned to the wall. Something about the fear in his eyes, the way he became so instantly submissive, excited Gaara. He could almost smell the frantic blood pulsing through Ron's quivering veins, and it made him hungry.  
  
The force of the sand slashing at Ron intensified to the point where he began to worry that he might just pass out. "HELP!" he screamed out, wondering where everyone was. The boy standing below was staring up at him with disdain, as if he were looking at one of the paintings on the castle walls.  
  
Gaara licked his lips, "Fresh, sweet blood," he whispered. There was nothing in his thoughts beyond killing Ron, nothing beyond sacrificing him to the sand. He stepped forward, raising his hand, readying himself for the subtle pleasures of performing Desert Coffin, when his foot caught on the corner of the heavy black robes he'd been forced to wear by that wretch, Dumbledore. With nothing more than a widening of his eyes, Gaara stumbled forward, his hand catching himself on the wall, but his concentration was gone as the sand quivered angrily around him.  
  
Bloody Hell! Ron's thoughts screamed as he realized not only was he falling, but he was falling directly onto the Slytherin boy who'd had him trapped. With a crash and tumble, Ron's awkward teenaged body slammed into Gaara, bringing them both to the ground in one mangled heap of red hair and black robes.  
  
Gaara lay beneath Ron, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling above. Were it not for the gentle heave of his chest, he could have been dead.  
  
"Sorry," Ron shrieked, scrambling off the boy, who hadn't moved, but simply collapsed under him. The Slytherin lay there staring vacantly, and Ron feared he might be dead. "Hey, hey there, are you ok?" Ron reached out and shook the boy, but the Slytherin didn't move. He was so much smaller than Ron, obviously a first year. How does such a small boy get such vacant eyes? Ron wondered as he reached out and gently touched the boy's face with his fingertips.  
  
Licking his lips nervously, avoiding every instinct to simply run, Ron fluttered his fingers beneath the high neckline of the boy's shirt, seeking hopefully for a pulse in the willowy neck. Finally, he found a faint pulse, and sat back with a sigh, wiping his robe sleeve across his sweaty brow. "Close one," he muttered, "better get him to Madame Pomfrey." Ron slid one arm under the Slytherin's neck, another under his knees and began to lift him when he realized there was something on the ground.  
  
Not wanting to leave anything behind, Ron knelt, setting the boy on his knee. The movement was awkward, and Ron had to slide one of his hands around the Slytherin's back, letting the boy's face nuzzle against Ron's chest as his own neck craned over the tiny shoulder.  
  
Gaara lay motionless. His eyes were open, but he didn't see the castle around him, didn't feel as Ron gently embraced him. There was only one world for Gaara, a world of swirling sand.  
  
It was the boy's ID. "Gaara," Ron tried the name out as he leaned back, cradling the boy. Gaara's eyes were still open, and Ron bent down to peer into them. Gaara was adorable, so much like a beautiful doll that Ron's expression turned to one of puzzlement. Is this kid for real? He couldn't help but wonder. He shook Gaara again, gently. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, Gaara's two crystal blue eyes slid to meet Ron's emerald green ones. "Oh, good, you're awake... Listen you, you can't go around slamming people with strange magic!"  
  
Gaara's vision cleared, and behind the veil of sand lay a child, practically a baby. Something ancient inside Gaara twitched with hunger, making him shudder and whimper in Ron's arms. A slow, deliberate smile began to creep across his face; he was no longer his own. Now he belonged to the sand.  
  
"Hey, you ok?" Ron looked at Gaara with concern. The kid had whimpered and then turned on him with one of the creepiest smiles Ron had ever seen. "We've got to get you to the Hospital Wing. Do you hear me?" Something beneath Gaara's robes shifted against Ron's lap, a rigid growth pressing against Ron's leg. "Hey!" Ron jumped up, dropping Gaara to the floor. Something was happening, something Ron knew already he didn't like.  
  
Gaara looked up from the floor, particles of sand beginning to swirl around him. The bulge under his robe shifted and throbbed, straining against the thick black cloth.  
  
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Ron cried out. He'd heard of this sort of thing before. Just last week someone mentioned they'd seen it happening to Professor Snape.  
  
Gaara laughed as his whole body throbbed with a different pulse. Suddenly his body jumped beyond its skin. Suddenly he was free.  
  
Ron screamed as a huge creature made of sand stood before him. He was sure Professor Snape had never done that.  
  
Gaara stared blankly from behind the mask of his new body. "I'm hungry," a gravelly voice ground its way from the depths of his body.  
  
"Uh, sure, sure," Ron's voice cracked as he slid along the wall, "we'll get you Dumbledore, he'll..."  
  
Gaara cut Ron off, disgusted by the thought of Dumbledore. "Much too old," he growled, licking his lips, "I prefer babies." 


	3. Chess Bugs

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with activity that night, making it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on the chess game Harry was trying to carry out with one of the new first years. He was a strange-looking kid with dark hair and small glasses, and he kept the collar of his robes tugged high on his face. No one seemed to know anything about him, save that he rarely spoke and spent most of his time alone. Harry was about to add, "good at chess," to that list, seeing as he was losing most spectacularly.  
  
"You should play Ron," Harry said with a shake of his head, sacrificing a pawn. He smirked a little as the poor piece was smashed to bits. "He'd give you a better game than me, that's for sure."  
  
"It's not over yet," the boy assured evenly, waiting for Harry to make his next move. "And I know someone much better than me at these things."  
  
"That Ravenclaw?" Harry asked curiously. There were only a few people Shino had ever been seen with, and one was a particularly boring Ravenclaw who always seemed to be cutting class. "If he's not careful he's going to flunk his classes. Is...he a friend of yours?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Oh." Harry frowned slightly, and when he glanced down to make his move was startled by a small bug crawling across the board. He lifted one of his pieces, intending to squash it.  
  
Shino straightened subtly. "Don't."  
  
"Hm?" Harry brought the piece down, crushing the tiny insect easily and flicking the remains away. "Don't what?"  
  
Shino's brow furrowed, but he didn't explain, waiting patiently for Harry to complete his move. He took the second rook. "This is a very odd school," he said instead.  
  
Harry smiled. "Yes, it is. It takes some getting used to right? This is my third year and I'm still learning things." The game continued, slowly, as each took more time to plan their moves. "You should try talking to more people," he suggested.  
  
"I'm all right."  
  
Another bug scrambled across the table, and Harry blinked in surprise. "It's a bloody infestation," he laughed. He lifted another piece to finish it off.  
  
Shino's hand came down on his wrist, halting him, and he jumped in surprise. Though Harry couldn't see the boy's eyes with his glasses on, he had the distinct impression he was being glared at. "Stop that," Shino said lowly.  
  
"Huh? Why?" Harry frowned as he watched the bug scuttle over the table edge. "It's just a bug."  
  
Shino didn't move. "Just stop."  
  
Harry was about to ask why, but his breath caught when he saw another pair of the insects crawling up over Shino's face. He didn't flinch, didn't even seem to notice as they made their way from his temple to his jaw and disappeared under his collar. "Hey...." He gulped when he noticed another three tracing the veins along Shino's hand—the same hand that was still fastened around his wrist. Her jerked back. "What is that?"  
  
"It's all right," Shino assured, drawing his hand back. He slipped his bishop into checkmate. "They're just bugs." 


	4. What a Bother

The dining hall was rapidly emptying, but Shikamaru continued to poke at his plate. He'd managed to save his unfinished meal from vanishing with most of the rest. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry—he was—he was just having trouble getting the motivation to eat.  
  
The Ravenclaw table was nearly deserted, but a few others had remained behind. Directly across from him, Shikamaru could see a pair of redheads bent close, talking. Of course he'd been warned about the twins by his peers, especially not to accept any kind of food or otherwise suspicious looking product. For now, their whispered conversation was just enough to hold his mild curiosity for a few moments.  
  
One of them finally noticed his stare—he couldn't tell them apart—and motioned to his brother. Both looked at him, obviously waiting for him to turn away, but Shikamaru only blinked and took a bite of some potato.  
  
The twin on the right leaned closer to the other, whispering quickly in his ear as the other nodded. Left twin said something in reply, and they both stood up.  
  
Whatever. Shikamaru turned his attention back to his plate, but he was suddenly not that interested in finishing. Before he could push the food aside to leave, the twins were suddenly back, one dropping in the seat across from him, the other at his side. He regarded them mildly. "Yeah?"  
  
"You're a first year, right?" the one across from him asked—Shikamaru recognized him as the twin on the right. "Ravenclaw?"  
  
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. "Why else would I be sitting at this table?" he asked back.  
  
Left twin snorted. "We were just asking. Seems there're a lot of strange first years walking around here this year. All with weird names." He looked to the boy expectantly.  
  
Shikamaru set his chin in his had. What a bother; I didn't ask to talk to them. "So?"  
  
"So what's yours?" Righty persisted.  
  
"Shikamaru."  
  
Both of them chuckled. "Yup. Definitely weird." The left one leaned closer. "So, Shikamaru, what are you into?"  
  
The younger boy blinked. Into? What's that supposed to mean? "I'm into going to bed," he muttered, pushing to his feet.  
  
Lefty sent his twin a significant glance, and the pair quickly gave chase. "Aw, that's no fun. Stay here and hang out."  
  
"We could really use a smart guy to help us out, you know?" Righty added.  
  
Shikamaru paused, sighing heavily. "What a bother," he muttered, turning around. "Can't you ask someone else?"  
  
The left one shrugged. "You're the only Ravenclaw left, and everyone knows you guys are the brainy kids. Come on...." He wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder, tugging him back towards the table. "Be a sport, won't ya?"  
  
Shikamaru rolled his eyes but gave in, allowing them to drop him back onto the bench. What a bother. Why does crap like this have to happen to me? "So? What do you want?" he asked, chin back in his hand.  
  
The pair had switched places—now Lefty was sitting on his right, and he couldn't help some mild annoyance at having to switch their names now. New Righty copied his posture with a grin. "The real question, Shikamaru, is what do you want?" His tone had lowered to avoid being overheard by the few remaining students.  
  
New Lefty nodded. "Yeah. After all, you were the one staring at us."  
  
"Checking us out," Righty added.  
  
"Making eyes at us."  
  
Shikamaru straightened, looking between the two with some wariness. "Huh?" Now what are they going on about? What a bother.  
  
Lefty chuckled at his expression. "Aww, now he's being all shy."  
  
"Trying to play innocent," Righty smirked.  
  
"Behind you!" Lefty shouted suddenly.  
  
Shikamaru rolled his eyes, but obediently turned to look over the other twin's shoulder—nothing there. "Look, if you guys don't mind...." He trailed off as he turned; Lefty was gone. He knew better than to think that the older boy had just vanished, and he faced the remaining twin with narrowed eyes.  
  
Righty was still grinning. "Don't worry, Shikamaru. We know we're pretty famous around here. And if you want a quick thrill, we're more than willing to oblige."  
  
Shikamaru frowned harder. "What are you talking abou—"  
  
His voice froze as a movement beneath the table caught his attention. Or more accurately, a movement beneath his long robes—Lefty had slipped beneath the thick cloth, and Shikamaru's eyes widened as he felt quick, nimble fingers unbuckling his jeans. "What?"  
  
Rightly slipped closer, tugging the other's head down as he lay out a piece of parchment. "Just keep your eyes down and your voice low," he said around a grin. "No one'll know, all right? Just enjoy." To his twin he said, "Make it quick—they'll kick us out in a few."  
  
"No problem, came the muffled reply, and Shikamaru jumped in his seat as his pants were abruptly jerked down enough to free him.  
  
Jeez, I didn't ask for this. Shikamaru set his chin in his hand, following Righty's directions and keeping his gaze on the scribbled on parchment. This is such a bother. I just wanted to go to bed. He sighed heavily, the sound catching as something hot and wet descended on him. Ah well, if they really want to.  
  
Lefty ended up being better than he would have thought, and it actually took him some effort to keep from gasping a few times. Every now and then Righty would mutter something he couldn't catch, and once he was certain he kicked his twin to get him to hurry. Finally he made a soft hiss as Lefty brought out his release.  
  
"About damn time," Righty muttered, grinning as he sat up.  
  
Lefty pulled himself up on Shikamaru's other side, wiping at his mouth. "No kidding—I was almost gonna get tired." He patted the younger boy on the shoulder with a bright smile. "Well, Shikamaru, hope you enjoy the rest of your first year at Hogwarts."  
  
"Don't get into too much trouble," Righty added.  
  
"And if you ever get bored," Lefty went on, "then just ask for us."  
  
Both boys patted him on the shoulder, and Shikamaru watched them leave with a frown. Sighing heavily, he started to stand, only to find that Lefty hadn't bothered to replace his pants. He rolled his eyes and pulled them back up before exiting the Great Hall.  
  
What a bother. 


	5. Whatever It Takes

There was one window in the classroom high above the student's heads. Through it crept a sickly shaft of light in which danced every dust particle that Sasuke was sure ever existed. Bored and annoyed, he pulled out a kunai and began carving a small spiral in the desktop.  
  
"Mister Uchiha, what EXACTLY is it that you think you're doing?"  
  
Sasuke looked down at his meandering spiral, then up into black eyes floating amidst a sea of ghostly white skin. Professor Snape's expression tightened before he spun on his heel, snapping himself to another desk and another reprimand.  
  
Despite his distaste for the green and silver robes they'd given him (he'd much rather of had a tasteful blue), Sasuke understood why The Third had insisted all of the genin come here to train. There were styles of fighting here that he didn't understand, and Professor Snape certainly had an uncanny power to strike fear into the very souls of anything alive or dead. Just yesterday he'd managed to evict an annoying creature called Peeves with a single glare.  
  
Sasuke lusted for that kind of power. As he watched Snape settle back behind his desk, Sasuke's determination hardened; he would attain such a power, no matter the cost.  
  
Snape looked out across the sea of virgin faces and frowned. He hated children, really. They were annoying, smelly, foul little creatures who scuttled through the halls like so many bugs, waiting to be squashed. Sure there was a promising one every now and again. Malfoy had certainly proven himself as an astute student, but now there were these new students. Snape wasn't exactly sure where they'd come from, they certainly weren't from Great Britian and that made him suspicious; Hogwarts didn't accept enrollees that were foreign.  
  
Half of his new Slytherins were these children, making Snape something close to physically sick. They all seemed slightly off, just like their names. It wasn't enough to force him to deal with James Potter's offspring, now he had to keep track of a bunch of smarmy foreign children as well. He was beginning to care less and less about the position of teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and more and more about simply escaping this academic hell. With a throaty sigh, Snape realized the impossibilities of escape, and once again resigned himself to the upbringing of these little maggots.  
  
Sasuke looked down at his cauldron with searing hatred. He'd been given the mission of turning an absurd concoction of ingredients into a youth potion. How a toad's toenail and two dragonfly wings would aid in making his desk partner turn into an infant, Sasuke had no clue. His eyes narrowed and flickered around the room; most of the genin looked confused, except Gaara, who seemed to already be done. The other students appeared to be doing fairly well, and having had enough of feeling left behind, Sasuke slowly raised his hands, preparing to perform Sharingan on the student in front of him.  
  
Snape had been watching Uchiha from the moment he'd arrived. For the most part it had been a rather boring vigil, but it seemed things were changing. Uchiha had taken up an abnormally still stance, and Snape was positive he was up to something.  
  
Sasuke's eyes shot open, his anticipation of gaining knowledge boiled over. Instead of seeing anything useful though, he was confronted with a sea of shifting black.  
  
"Uchiha!" Snape slammed his wand down on the desk, "What is this?" his question snaked forth, wrapping itself around Sasuke. The boy had glowing red eyes! RED EYES! Gathering himself up slightly, Snape raised his wand and used it to lower Sasuke's hands back to the desk. "You were trying to cheat, Mister Uchiha," the words oozed around his growing sneer. "Now you will pay with detention."  
  
A Hufflepuff one table over muttered something about Snape never taking points from the Slytherin house just a little too loudly. "Ten points from Hufflepuff for snotty retorts! Sasuke, see me after class."  
  
Sasuke bent over a cauldron, sweat dripping from his brow as he hand scrubbed his way through 150 of them. Snape sat at his desk, keeping an annoyingly close eye on him, leaving Sasuke powerless to gain more knowledge, or, at least, that was his mode of thought while working his way through the first 75 cauldrons. By the time he reached the 76th, he realized there was no greater time to obtain Snape's scare tactic than right then, while they were alone.  
  
Snape watched as Sasuke scrubbed the pots with an unyielding pace. As he watched, he couldn't help but wonder where the boy got such stamina. Perhaps he simply wasn't scrubbing them hard enough. Expecting to be disappointed, Snape stood and walked over to the boy.  
  
Sasuke looked up as Snape approached. The professor's face was set in a grimace that sent a chill through Sasuke. Where did all of Snape's cold, fearful power come from? How could Sasuke get his hands on it?  
  
"Good job, Uchiha," Snape said, incredibly disappointed to find that Sasuke was, in fact, doing a spectacular job. "When you're done with these, you may leave." Snape began walking back to his desk, but stopped. The yellow sunshine of day had shifted, becoming the glowing blue that you only got during a full moon. Somewhere in the distance there was a long, mournful howl that stretched into the night, taking a little piece of Snape's attention with it.  
  
Sasuke knew this was his chance, whatever was distracting Snape was something close to his heart, that much could be read on his face. "Professor?" Sasuke stood, taking two carefully planned steps towards Snape and laying his hand on the professor's arm.  
  
Snape twitched, Uchiha was... touching him. Snape turned quickly and grabbed the boy's wrist with his hand, pulling it up and inadvertently pulling Sasuke closer to him. He was about to throw the boy backwards, but something made him pause. Uchiha was looking up at him with puppy dog eyes... just the way... He used to.  
  
Sasuke had to work hard to suppress a triumphant smile. He understood immediately that this innocent gaze would be the key to obtaining even more power. "Professor Snape," he asked, intoning his voice with mock concern, "are you... ok?" Slowly and deliberately, he raised his other hand towards a strand of hair that had fallen over Snape's face.  
  
Snape opened his mouth to ask Uchiha what he thought he was doing, but suddenly there was an uncharacteristic lump blocking his words. This was just like so many years ago, when he was younger, when another boy was holding him in just such a way.  
  
"Professor," Sasuke whispered as his fingers moved the errant hairs and then played lightly down the side of Snape's face. Triumph! thought Sasuke as Snape's eyes half closed in dreamy remembrance and his grip on Sasuke's wrist loosened.  
  
With practiced stealth, Sasuke gently twisted his wrist from Snape's grasp and placed it on the professor's hip. His other hand mirrored the move, and slowly Sasuke began lowering himself, sliding his hands down the professor's thighs, then calves, to the hem of his robes.  
  
Snape's conscience screamed at him, telling him to stop the boy and send him on his way, but his heart wouldn't listen. His mind was years in the past, looking down on another boy with sandy, brown, disheveled hair as he knelt before him. He was powerless, as much as he hated to admit, there was nothing that could make him stop the boy. Uchiha had found the magic button in Snape's past that turned him off to reason. Snape looked helplessly on as Uchiha slid his robes up over his waist. He'd made a habit of not wearing underwear this year, just in case history repeated itself; and although this was a repeat of one sort, it wasn't at all what Snape had had in mind. Mustering all of his strength, Snape muttered, "N..n..no, stop..."  
  
Sasuke smiled the sly, triumphant smirk of someone who knew they'd won. His fingers wrapped around Snape's penis in their Sharingan position as he looked up. There is no step that is too far if it leads me to being the best, Sasuke thought. "Stop what, Professor," Sasuke's eyes narrowed as he readied to perform Sharingan. He was more than happy to see the look of befuddlement on Snape's face.  
  
Excellent, thought Sasuke, it's just like dealing with Kakashi. 


	6. If I Can't Do It

"327...328...329..."  
  
Fred was enjoying an afternoon walk by himself near the edge of the Forbidden Forest when he heard a young man's voice carry along the hills. As always, curiosity compelled him to investigate. With George having wandered off somewhere—probably teasing that first year again—he needed something to amuse him. And what he found seemed promising indeed.  
  
"330...331...332..."  
  
Another of those strange first years was at the base of a small hill; he'd shed his thick robes and was striking the trunk of a sturdy tree with repeated side kicks. Each blow was accompanied by a number from the dark- haired, round-eyed boy.  
  
"Hey." Fred trotted down the hill and squatted just to the side of the boy. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Training," the boy replied, not breaking his pace. "400 side kicks. If I can't do it, I'll have to do 500 push-ups."  
  
"Sounds like a damn lot of work!" Fred declared with a shake of his head. "You must be that Lee kid people were talking about." He bounced a little on his haunches. "You do realize that side kicks aren't going to make Snape's potions class any easier."  
  
But Lee didn't miss a beat. "In order to improve one's mind, one must first train their body. And yes, I am Rock Lee."  
  
"Thought so. You're kind of infamous already." Fred grinned as he watched the boy continue to train. "Hey. What number were you on?"  
  
Lee stopped, lowering his leg as he turned slowly to face the elder. "I lost count," he said dejectedly.  
  
"500 push-ups, wasn't it?"  
  
Lee nodded resolutely, but as he started to lower himself to the ground Fred tapped him on the shoulder. "I think," he said secretively, "I can come up with something a little more effective for your training."  
  
Some minutes later the pair was standing just before the Whomping Willow. Fred had his hands on his hips, looking quite proud of himself, while Lee was merely dubious. "This," Fred introduced grandly, "is the Whomping Willow. You've been warned to stay away from it—and why? Because it is a fearsome protector of the school grounds for decades."  
  
"Protector?" Lee echoed, his puzzlement beginning to melt into awe.  
  
"That's right!" Fred heartily assured. "I'd say, oh, 200 laps around Whomping Willow ought to get you in shape."  
  
Lee's expression hardened as his fists clenched in determination. "200 laps around the Whomping Willow," he repeated. "If I can't do it—"  
  
"Leave that to me," Fred interrupted. "I'll think of something."  
  
Some minutes later Fred and Lee were in the main hall, having just returned from Madam Pomfrey's with lotion for Lee's many bruises and welts. They'd attracted the attention of quite a few students, who were gathering around as Fred laid out his latest plan for Lee's training.  
  
"These," he explained, tugging several very large sacks out of his robes, "are Bertie Bots' Every Flavor Beans. They range from strawberry to urine. If you can eat 70 of these beans, I think we can all consider that shining proof of your determination and tenacity."  
  
Lee glared down at the sacks that contained what were to be his new opponents. All around him the students were cheering and egging him on. "70 of Bernie Bots' Every Flavor Beans," he said to himself. "If I can't do that—"  
  
"You let me handle that," Fred interrupted with a wink.  
  
Some minutes later Fred and Lee, after another trip to Madam Pomfrey's and accompanied by a group of students who'd followed them from the hall, were sneaking into Professor Lupin's classroom. They quickly unearthed a large trunk and dragged it to the center of the room with warnings for their onlookers.  
  
"These," Fred began anew, "are Blue Pixies. Nasty little devils—very fast. If you can catch 30 of these little brats, that'd make you just about the fastest, most clever wizard I ever saw."  
  
Lee, holding his aching stomach, gulped. "30...Blue Pixies," he repeated, amidst the calls from their crowd. "If I can't do that—"  
  
"Ah ah ah. I'm the trainer here, right?"  
  
Some minutes later Fred, Lee, and a parade of at least twenty other students were creeping into the dungeons. Or rather, Fred was dragging a bruised, battered, aching, nauseous, and utterly exhausted Lee down the spiral staircases to Snape's potions classroom.  
  
"This," Fred told him in a whisper, "is Professor Snape's room—the terror of Hogwarts. I heard he was having a student for detention but they should be finished by now. If you can sneak through the classroom, into his office, and steal the porcelain tea cup from his desk, that will make you the absolute King of Hogwarts."  
  
All around, the students buzzed excitedly.  
  
Lee took a deep breath to steel his nerves. "Steal a porcelain tea cup from Professor Snape's desk," he repeated.  
  
Fred waited a moment, and when nothing else followed, he questioned, "If you can't do it...?"  
  
Lee shook his head resolutely. "No—this time, I have to do it!"  
  
Some seconds later Lee emerged from the classroom, his face deathly pale and gait rigid. He met Fred's gaze with a look of shock and horror in his wide, dark eyes. "I couldn't do it," he said weakly. And then he passed out on the dungeon floor, surrounded by many curious stares.  
  
"Hey, Fred," George greeted as he slipped through the murmuring crowd. "Have you seen Ron? Harry was looking for him earlier." He paused at the sight of the unconscious boy. "What happened to him?"  
  
Fred shrugged. "Dunno," he admitted. "But I'm sure as hell not going in there." 


	7. Doggy Style

Draco stomped angrily down the hall, utterly and completely annoyed with the world at the moment. Everything was a bloody mess, and he wasn't in the middle of it—he couldn't even get some decent information. Bloody Potter was still getting so much thrice be-damned attention despite Draco's best efforts. His father had refused flat out to answer any of his questions concerning the escaped Sirius Black and why he would be after the stupid git of a boy. His arm was not gathering quite as much attention from the Professors anymore, and even Snape had ignored his attempts earlier to get Potter to cut his eels' tongue.  
  
And speaking of the Professor. Something had happened to Professor Snape, and he'd been acting rather strangely lately, especially around the students. There was talk about some "thing" that had happened, but no one was talking—no one had any facts. Not even the threat of Crabb and Goyle had been enough to coax some information, and it was starting to drive him crazy.  
  
And then those two idiots had to go and completely destroy half of Greenhouse 3, earning them twin detentions for the next three evenings. It was turning out to be probably the worst week he'd ever had at Hogwarts.  
  
He didn't want to go back to the common room, not with all the questions still flying around about Snape's behavior. That, of course, meant he couldn't seek out the Professor himself in the hopes of getting a little more information on other subjects. And the Great Hall was still full of people, and as he left he noticed one of the new Ravenclaws making a hasty retreat, followed closely by those ridiculous Weasley twins. The three glared at each other venomously before all went on their way.  
  
Draco finally found a small classroom with only one person occupying it, and he barged in with a curt, "Get out."  
  
The boy was tall, but when he turned Draco was surprised to see the foreign face of one of the new first years. He frowned severely at the cuffs and collar of fur the kid had added to his robes, and he noted the red and gold of his tie. Bloody Gryffindors. "I said clear the hell out, kid."  
  
"I was here first," came the bold reply. He was standing near the window—he'd apparently been studying the grounds in the moonlight. Draco glared. Of all the stupid, rotten, bloody—  
  
A sharp yip made him look down. At the other boy's feet was a small, white dog, and his face twisted in disgust. "Students aren't allowed to keep dogs," he said, feeling something like hope curl in his stomach. He raised his eyes to smirk at the kid. "You'll get in trouble if anyone finds out."  
  
Instead of looking distressed, the boy only grinned. "McGonagall already approved—tell whoever you want, blondie." His grin only deepened when he saw Draco's expression drop. Serves him right, he thought with satisfaction. He headed out towards the door, raising a hand in a smart wave. "Later."  
  
Draco could have shot flames from his eyes, and he was desperate, sorely tempted to pull out his wand and curse the little bastard across the room.  
  
The dog passed just in front of him, and Draco's eyes narrowed angry. Walk away from him, huh? Not this bloody lifetime. Draco took two steps, wound up his foot, and punted the howling mutt smack into a heavy oak chair.  
  
He had expected anger, shouting, maybe even an attempted hex. He had certainly not expected the boy to whirl around and snarl like some animal, then proceed to leap across the floor. Draco raised his "injured" arm to defend, but that turned out to be a mistake, as the kid promptly sank his teeth through the bandages.  
  
"AAHH! Shit, what are you doing!" Draco made a fist with his free hand and began to pound on the boy's head. When all his high-pitched shrieking threatened to bring the whole school down, the first year finally let go.  
  
Still snarling, the boy moved to pick up his dog—the damn mutt greeted him with almost no sign of injury. Draco meanwhile dropped to his knees, cradling his throbbing, bleeding arm. "You bloody little—you bit me! You just—"  
  
"That's right," the kid retorted. He straightened and marched towards the door. "Now you can really complain about that arm of yours." Pausing at the door, he sent a red-tinted grin at the other. "Should teach you to leave Kiba and Akamaru alone." Kiba stuck up his middle finger and, with a bark-like laugh, left.  
  
Draco whimpered, holding his arm close. Stupid, bloody, god-be-damned Gryffindors....  
  
This was definitely his worst week ever. 


	8. World's Greatest Lesbian

The two men stood there, tongues practically touching their knees as they hissed maniacally at one another. It looked as if they each had a long, wet tentacle throbbing and stretching, straining and whipping furiously around their heads. Suddenly, one man's tongue snapped back, curling into the s- shaped attack form of a snake about to strike.  
  
"Who are you," hissed Voldemort at the man who had glided from the woods onto the boundaries of his secret hideaway. His tongue remained poised to attack, making the question an effort.  
  
"Your reaper," Orochimaru hissed back, the corners of his mouth curling up while his snake eyes revealed nothing.  
  
Voldemort released the spell that made his tongue snake-like in the first place and gently closed his mouth, amazed at the other man's skill with wet, flapping appendages. "My reaper, that's comical. You obviously have no idea who I am--if you did, I doubt you'd be so cocky."  
  
"Oh, I'm definitely not cocky," Orochimaru laughed, his tongue still slithering around his jaw line like some alien creature, but his stance relaxing.  
  
Voldemort looked the other man over carefully. His eyes were snake-like, as was his tongue... could it be he'd found another heir to Salazar Slytherin? He looked more like the heir of the basilisk itself. The stranger definitely had a mysterious beauty about him though, and now that Voldemort had regained a human body, he realized he was no longer immune to the predatory lust from days of old.  
  
Orochimaru stood there with a smug grin on his face. This man was nothing, his tongue wasn't even real, it was a spell. He'd felt the other man's release of power with satisfaction. "I truly don't have all day just to stand around and be admired," his tongue slid beneath the neckline of his tunic, "that kind of time wasting is being saved until I have attained immortality."  
  
"Ah," whispered Voldemort, "immortality." His memory flashed back to the night where the Sorcerer's Stone had been within his reach, causing anger to course through his body. "Potter..." he muttered to himself.  
  
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed; obviously his adversary had experience in the field of immortality. Suddenly, the Legendary Ninja was incredibly interested. "Potter?" he asked, tilting his head and letting his long black hair cascade over his shoulder, creating a silky black curtain of curiosity.  
  
Voldemort sighed unintentionally at hearing the name again and looked up. His heart seemed to skip. There before him stood the same man, but somehow, he was different. His face was set with something that leaned towards a snake showing compassion. Voldemort found himself lingering on the silky hair, the alabaster skin, the slender waist and delicate wrists. He's beautiful, thought Voldemort, simply beautiful. "Say, you wouldn't happen to have a name, would you?"  
  
"My name is Orochimaru, that should be enough," Orochimaru watched him, waiting for the reaction he was used to when he mentioned his name, but it never came.  
  
"Hmm, strange name, but then again, so is mine. I am Lord Voldemort," Voldemort leaned back, waiting to hear Orochimaru gasp when he realized he was in the presence of the greatest dark wizard in the history of wizarding, but nothing happened. "Haven't you heard of me?"  
  
"No, haven't you heard of me?" Orochimaru was befuddled--never had he gone anywhere that his reputation hadn't preceded him. With a sly smile and a shrug of his shoulders, he shook the insult off and walked over to sit on a large rock next to Voldemort. Looking up from under heavy eyelids, Orochimaru slid his hand to the empty space beside him and began stroking the rock.  
  
Voldemort didn't have to be invited twice. It had been years since he'd had this kind of opportunity. Sure, there was always Pettigrew, but who could get aroused by that? Lucius could be fun at times, but Voldemort was sick and tired of being stuck with nelly bottoms. Already he could tell; Orochimaru would give him a good fight, never mind that he had a beauty that came close to rivaling that of Voldemort himself.  
  
As Voldemort sat down, Orochimaru leaned in and slid his tongue along the other man's neck, curling it up and tickling the back of his ear. Voldemort let out a low moan and turned to his new companion, opening his mouth, but Orochimaru reached out with a delicate finger and laid it across the other's lips. "I don't want you speaking..." Orochimaru whispered, "unless I tell you to."  
  
That's going a bit far, Voldemort thought, I may not want a bottom, but I definitely don't want to become one myself . "Listen, Orochimaru, Lord Voldemort most certainly does not take orders from the likes of you." As he said this, Voldemort edged his hand under the rim of Orochimaru's tunic, then shot his arm forcefully forward, reaching for the throbbing sperm snake between the other's legs.  
  
Orochimaru smiled, the look on Voldemort's face was priceless, "What? Is something wrong?"  
  
Voldemort's eyes were like full moons of disbelief, "There's... but you're... but there's no... but you're a... but..."  
  
Orochimaru cut him off, "A man, yes, that's where you're correct. Where you're incorrect lies within that bulging brain between your legs. Your stiff salute was all for naught. I care little for the love of men."  
  
"Huh? You're a lesbian?!" Voldemort pulled back his hand, but not quickly enough to escape Orochimaru getting a hold on his wrist.  
  
Orochimaru threw back his head and laughed. "Yes," he said, wiping tears from his eyes, "yes, I am the world's greatest lesbian, and since we've established that I'm not interested in you sexually, there must be something else." Orochimaru's eyes twinkled with malice, he could hardly wait to have a penis again. Voldemort was beautiful in all respects and would do nicely.  
  
"Something else?" Voldemort asked.  
  
Leaning in, Orochimaru whispered, "Yes, I don't want your mind, I want your body." 


End file.
